


The Time Out Lab

by TheHatMeister



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Borderline crack, Gen, bad and naughty CSIs get sent to the Time Out Lab to atone for their sins, punishment via humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-08-07 12:24:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7714771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheHatMeister/pseuds/TheHatMeister
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Barry messes up one too many times, Captain Singh relegates him to Lab Three, where CSIs dare not go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Time Out Lab

**Author's Note:**

> shoutout to Julia and Sana for encouraging and enabling this fic. You're both trash.

* * *

“Dammit, Allen!” A vein was pulsing on Singh’s forehead as he stood in the doorway to Barry’s lab, brandishing a file like it had offended his mother. “Hernandez tells me you spilled developing solution on her!”

“It was an accident,” Barry muttered, glancing at his shoes. 

“ _ And _ Russell says you at his lunch yesterday.”

“I was hungry.” Barry smiled sheepishly. It wasn’t his fault that Russell never labeled his lunchbag. Singh sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Allen, effective immediately you are to move to Lab Three. We’ll decide when you can move back.”

“What? Captain, that’s not fair!” Barry protested. “I’ve got so many cases up here, I can’t move them all by myself!”

“Allen,” the captain said warningly. Barry’s shoulders slumped.

“Yes, Captain,” he sighed, and held out his hand. The captain reached into his pocket and pulled out a large plastic key, brightly colored like a child’s toy. 

“I can never do this with a straight face,” muttered Singh, pursing his lips. He passed the key over to Barry, who clipped it onto his belt. Throwing his files into a spare box, Barry gathered up the rest of the supplies that wouldn’t be in Lab Three. His shoulders shaking with silent laughter, Captain Singh departed, even as Barry scowled at his back.

Lab Three was legendary among the Central City CSIs, whispered rumors swirling around the solid wood door. Those that were sent to work there as punishment never spoke of the conditions it held, but suffice to say that they spent the next month being as diligent and accident-free as they could. 

Unfortunately for Barry, this wasn’t his first time going to Lab Three. Bracing his box on his hip, he made his way down the stairs and into the precinct basement. It was dank and musty underneath the art deco lights of the first floor, and Barry couldn’t help but shudder. Lab Three was at the end of the hallway, and he cautiously advanced through the corridor, as if a creature would spring out from behind a darkened corner. However, he was not so lucky.

With a sigh, Barry pulled out the garishly colored key, using it on an equally bright padlock that secured the heavy door. Shouldering it open, Barry stood at the threshold, completely miserable.

Lab Three, or the “Time Out Lab” as it was (un)affectionately known, was completely furnished with plastic beakers, tables, and benches, all designed for young children. A whiteboard hung on the wall, along with a chart and a flipboard that proclaimed “It has been ___ days since my last accident.” 

The idea of Lab Three, created by CCPD’s best and brightest, was to punish recalcitrant CSIs without taking away their ability to work. They would still be paid in full and be able to contribute to crime solving, but the personal humiliation was generally enough to teach them a lesson. While it contained most of the equipment a CSI would need, it had been deliberately infantilized to the point where Barry sometimes found himself nearly destroying it. 

It was one of the most humiliating things he had ever experienced.

Letting his box thud onto the bright yellow table, Barry folded himself onto the nearest bench. His knees were practically up to his chest, the seat was so small, and he had to awkwardly fidget until he found a position where he could use his laptop without too much discomfort. Dutifully uncapping a marker, Barry filled in a large zero on the flipboard, knowing full well that Joe would have to come down later and make sure that he’d followed protocol for setting up shop in the new lab. Fidgeting again, Barry consigned himself to an even more awful day of lab work than usual.

\-----

“Well,” Joe said, clearly stifling laughter, “I guess you’re being taught a lesson.”

Barry merely glared at him from where he was stuck between the bench and its connected table. “Just help me out, Joe.”

Still giggling, Joe braced his foot on the bench and grabbed Barry’s outstretched hand, pulling him free with a pop. Barry stretched, cracking his back with a groan.

“I hate this lab so much,” he moaned. “I didn’t even do anything this time, Joe, honest.”

“Mhm.” Joe used his sleeve to erase the zero on Barry’s flipboard, replacing it with a one. Inspecting the files that Barry had finished, he nodded approvingly.

“Good job, buddy,” he said, peeling off a gold star from a sheet and putting it on the chart. “You get five of those, and I’ll buy you ice cream.”

“Stop making fun of me, Joe.” Barry was in a full-on sulk, arms crossed against his chest.

“You behave like an adult, and I’ll treat you like one,” Joe retorted. “Until then, you’re stuck in the kiddie lab.”

“Don’t tell anyone,” begged Barry. 

“Oh, I won’t.” Of course, Joe thought, that wasn’t going to stop him from showing the rest of the team at STAR Labs the pictures.


End file.
